Dawn's Rise
by NaomiSpice
Summary: AU - The major gangs of the 5 Great Nations live in a tense world of territorial control, black market access, and violence. Until the most notorious of them all, the Sound 5, vanish. Suspicions arise, alliances are made, and a new enemy emerges.
1. Chapter 1 - Hidan

The lights made her skin shine like the softest leather; the smoothest gold. Her hips swayed and rolled as she rose and fell against the pole. The stainless steel was cold against her warm skin, and sent chills down the back of her neck. She tossed her jet-black hair and sent him a wink.

All the stages were empty and dark, all except for one. The bar was vacant and all the seats were upturned atop the tables. The vixen's only observer was the head hitman himself, Hidan: Akatsuki.

"You think you know what you're doin' Bitch?" Hidan pointed at the woman's platinum heels on the stage. "Your feet are still on the floor."

Upon request, she groped the pole high, and hoisted herself into the air and sent herself spinning, flexing her stomach to remain in motion.

"Oh damn." Hidan took another gulp from the bottle of vodka in his hand. His deep magenta eyes watching her every move.

When her arms were about to give out, she let herself drop, and licked the gleaming metal pole, revealing the stud in her tongue. Hidan stood up from the black velvet couch, bottle still in-hand, and beckoned her down from the stage.

"Is that your stage uniform?" He asked, eyes aimed at her bubbly breasts.

She nodded and giggled, reaching behind her head to untie the halter to her glossy black bikini. Her breasts fell exposed, and Hidan set the near-empty bottle on the stage, leaning into her. He stroked the sides of her hourglass frame and took in her scent.

His touch was so light, the way his fingertips brushed her skin made her weak. She leaned her elbows on the stage, and let her head fall back, as his lips pressed to her collarbone.

The double doors across the room swung open; in walked a greasy-haired redhead with a facefull of piercings. His arms swung heavy at his sides- fists clenched. He felt uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing.

"Hey, asshole." Pain called, heading for his subordinate. "Don't you have work to do?"

Hidan ignored him, for the moment- murmuring sweet, seductive words into the performer's ear. She bit her lip hungrily.

"I said-" Pain reached Hidan, and gave his shoulder a shove, "You have work to do."

"What the fuck, man?" Hidan growled.

"Kakuzu's waiting. Make it quick, our window isn't as large as it was last time." Pain eyed the topless stripper before him, scoffed. "She's not supposed to play with customers."

"Who says I'm a customer?" Hidan smirked, "I'm a friend."

Pain rolled his eyes, "Get to work, dickbag." And left as quick as he came.

The girl Hidan had been toying with helped herself to the remaining vodka. Hidan watched her, and sighed.

She puckered her lips, "You have to go?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his slick silver hair. Then, from the pocket of his silk shirt, he pulled a folded hundred-dollar bill. Taking a few glances around him, he slipped it to her hand, and whispered, "Don't tell nobody, or you're a dead bitch."

He swiped his jacket from the couch, and headed out the double doors, around the corner to the elevator. Thoughts of what the next few hours could bring made Hidan's head throb like mad.

_Fuck it all. Those asshats don't need me for this job. This is such bullshit._

From the inner sleeve of his jacket, he pulled a cigarette and a lighter. As the elevator doors closed behind him, he let off the first breath. The fresh smoke cooled his head.

From F.13 to B1 the elevator slid, and with each passing floor, more grey clouds shrouded the air around him. Hidan tapped his foot anxiously. His cigarette was already half gone when the doors opened to the basement. It wasn't so much a basement, as it was a parking garage. Guest parking, employee parking, and of course, their loading dock.

Kakuzu's windowless black SUV was waiting at the exit of the garage. As Hidan stepped out, and sucked back the last of his cigarette, Kakuzu and Itachi climbed out of the SUV.

Itachi crossed his arms across his chest tightly, and eyed Kakuzu. Kakuzu was a big man. Easily 7 clicks above Hidan. The scars around his jaw and lips puffed out when he clenched his teeth.

"Hidan, you-"

"Shut your fuckhole, I'm here. Let's just get it done." Hidan threw the end of his dying cigarette to the concrete, and smashed it with his shoe. "Where are we going?"

Itachi replied, "Eastern district. We have to make it quick."

"What are we moving?" Hidan asked as they all loaded up into the SUV. The other two took the front; Kakuzu at the wheel. Hidan cupped his hands around his eyes in attempt to check out the cargo past the tinted glass behind the back seat.

"It's an exchange. Madara doesn't want to pull out another loan, so we're trading booze." Itachi was just as thrilled to be there as Hidan was.

"The cheap shit, I hope."

Kakuzu started the vehicle, and took the up ramp to the street parallel to Dawn's Rise. If it wasn't for Konan's business upstairs, they'd still be operating out of the dank Warehouse 6. Which was right next to Warehouse 7. It was better for everybody that the Akatsuki relocated to the inner city.

Hidan was starting to feel neglected, sitting in the back seat as he was. His foot started to bounce and his fingers tapped restlessly against the padded leather seats. Another three blocks passed. The high rises and corporate towers were soon replaced by short, dull, manufacturing plants and crusty brick complexes as they approached the edge of the city. It was familiar territory, but that didn't mean it was safe.

"Why isn't the shark coming along?" Hidan asked.

"Said he wasn't feeling friendly today." Kakuzu puffed, shifting to a lower gear as the SUV creeped through the chain link fence to the docks.

"Fuck him, seriously? Jashin help us all."

"I thought your god wasn't the helping sort." Itachi snickered.

"It's worth asking every once in a while. Damn, especially going on jobs with you two." Hidan rolled his eyes, pushing back the images of their countless mishaps and unexpected negotiations.

_They're just too stubborn. Hell, I can be stubborn- but there's a time to be smart about shit and let the other guy have it. At least it's only an exchange this time. Dealin's already been done._

The headlights' glow illuminated three figures in the night, just outside of Warehouse 7. Two men and one woman. Zabuza, Jinpachi, Ameyuri. Kakuzu stopped the car, and made sure to turn off the interior lights before sticking a handgun from the console in his back pocket as he stepped out. Itachi almost always went without a gun, but Hidan knew better. He reached into the console and pulled out another semi-automatic, and stashed it in the secret pocket inside of his leather jacket.

Hidan stepped out, and stood beside his comrades at the hood of the car. It was dark, but not impossible to see. A street lamp ten feet away and a dinky old light on the warehouse gave fair visibility.

"Can we make this quick? I have a bed I'd rather be in." The girl, 25, decked in denim spitefully requested.

"Got a fuck waiting for you or something?" Hidan chuckled, imagining the curvaceous redhead between his own sheets, only for an instant.

"No. Sleeping, you pervert." She snapped.

Itachi coughed, but Hidan could tell it was cover for a chuckle. Kakuzu took no humor. He never did.

One of the others spoke, "Before we do the exchange, I have a few inquiries."

It was Zabuza, the most social of the 7 Gunmen. All negotiations went through him, and his orders were stone solid.

"What questions do you have?" Kakuzu's hoarse voice broke the momentary silence between the parties.

"Have any of you heard anything about the _**Sound 5**_lately?"

Hidan scrunched his face; it wasn't the sort of question he was expecting. The clients weren't interested in the merch. But he honestly knew nothing.

Itachi looks to both Hidan and Kakuzu. Receiving no response, he replied, "Not really, no."

"That's the concerning part, am I right?" The third voice, Jinpachi, finally spoke up.

The Akatsuki three stayed quiet. Hidan shifted his weight under his feet, smearing the gravel below.

"No activity. For 2 months." Jinpachi continued, "_Odd_, isn't it?"

"Ain't my business-" Hidan hissed.

"You're right- it isn't your business, but it **might** be. We've heard rumors." Ameyuri's voice burst.

"What kind of rumors?" Kakuzu scoffed. He never was one to believe gossip. It was a petty pastime in his mind.

"They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone."

"Like…" Hidan smirked in the dark, "Somebody finally ganked them all?"

Ameyuri flared her nostrils back at him, "Listen to yourself. _All of them?_ Who would be able to pick them off all at the same time?"

Kakuzu had been contemplating the idea, "You think maybe mutiny?"

"No, they're too collectively driven." Zabuza, shirtless as always in a pair of rugged jeans, leans away from the side of Warehouse 7, "We think there's a bigger fish out there."

"Why are you asking us?" Itachi asked. "You think _we_ did this?"

"Not at all." Zabuza was quick to answer. "Just think we should keep our ears open."

The questions were cut short after that. I occurred to Hidan, Itachi, and Kakuzu, that some other force was at work. The Sound 5 were consistent with their work. Never any unusual breaks or sprees. Odd was… the softest way of putting it. It was unsettling. The most notorious team of killers- just… vanished.

* * *

_**This story is something I've never done before, both in POV style and in category. Never completed an Alternate Universe Fic before, but this one has me really excited. First Chapter is the Beta test. Yay or Nay?**_

_**~NaomiSpice**_


	2. Chapter 2 - Kisame

"Shark speaking."

I swear if he asks me one more time to increase the order-

"Hey." It was Hidan on the other line, "Boss wants an emergency meeting. Call Deidara."

"Why can't you call him?" Kisame rolled the plastic bag of powder into a clean sheet of butcher paper, holding a piece of tape between his lips.

"Because I don't want to, God damn it."

The line went dead after the last remark. After the tape had been pressed over the open crease of the package, Kisame took his phone from where it had been pinched between his ear and shoulder.

Reluctantly, he dialed Deidara's number, reaching for another plastic bag. The dial tone repeated, until it dropped.

"Fuck you too, dweeb." Kisame tossed his phone on the table. After staring at it, he tossed his spiky blue head back, and growled.

The responsibility hierarchy in this group is cat shit. But if I don't bring him, I'll get roasted for it.

Kisame stashed away the drugs in the utility door of the old arcade machine in his garage, and grabbed his keys. The sleek, black Corvette was waiting patiently- still and silent. Blood rushed with excitement through his veins as Kisame ran a hand across the hood. Zabuza never understood it, the way Kisame was so heart-struck by cars, but never women.

"What about her?" He'd say as he points out some woman walking by.

"Yeah? What about her?" Kisame would ask.

"Tch. Don't you ever get laid? I get it if it's not at the front of your mind, but."

"Just don't care."

And that was it. He just didn't care. Women always seemed to come and go. But a good car could last forever if you treated it right. A supercharged V-8 doesn't cry when you ride it too hard, it purrs. Like he'd been struck by lightning, a spark ignites in Kisame's cold blue heart as the engine awakens, rattling the air. His sharp teeth flash, and he was gone.

Kisame was the only one that lived in the suburbs- but he liked it that way. It was quieter, away from everybody else, and it gave him an excuse to go driving. He only disobeyed the speed limits a little. As the neighborhoods trickled away, Kisame turned off into the express lane, taking the long way around the other side of the city.

He never played the radio when he drove. All Kisame needed was the hum of the engine and the beat of each rhythmatic gear-shift to make music for his ears. Cars around him seemed to disappear, none of them mattered. He sped ahead and weaved between each one, until he was at the front of the custer, and gaining distance from them still.

Up Shift

If the car had a voice, it would be the rpm, she told him when she was ready to go faster, or slower. Women are too much work. They're too complex. Cars are simple, and honest.

The high rises and glittering skyline of the city drew closer, and the express lane rose into an overpass, grazing the city's edge like a swift blade. As the lane lead to a split, Kisame took the exit on the right, down to street level. Driving on raised overpasses made him feel like some automotive king on a throne, and now he was among peasants, driving on their mediocre streets as they drive cars they don't deserve.

He felt the need to drive with more caution. It wasn't worth it to trust other people to drive safe. Sometimes you have to be the actively safe one.

The buildings decreased in size, and seemed to age with every block. Deidara lived in the older part of town, with the graffiti artists and craftsmen. Before going to his flat, Kisame stopped at an old brick 2-story.

The sign read, "Urban Taboo Ink" and even though the neon read "Closed", there was a light on beyond the main parlor.

That loser is always here.

Kisame wasn't surprised when the front door (despite being closed) was unlocked. Upon letting himself in, he heard a woman's voice; laughter. For an instant, he worried about the reason why she was laughing. Shaking it off, Kisame followed the beam of light to one of the private studio offices; Deidara's personal office.

Knocking can't save me now. If I walk into something, hell, I walk into it. Probably why he didn't answer his phone.

Kisame pushed the door open with his knuckles, to find Deidara scraping ink into the ribs of a naked, lavender-haired girl, lounging on her stomach with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand.

Okay, I can handle this much.

"Sup?" Deidara smiled.

"Uh, I came to get you because you failed to answer my call."

"I know. I figured you'd come anyway. I'm almost done here."

"Hey Kisame!" The girl turned to flash him a sweet smile. It was Heromi, Deidara's girl. From the looks of it, she was pretty wasted. Luckily, Deidara was only filling an old tattoo with color, rather than ripping her a new one.

Smart guy, I'd hate to be responsible for obeying a drunk woman's commands- especially if it involved a new tattoo.

"Hey there, uh, Heromi."

"Hey Kisame." She said again, this time much slower, "I have a friend who's single. And she's like, a total babe. I can hook you up!"

Kisame rubbed the side of his skull, "No thanks, I'm not really looking-"

"You always say that! C'mon she's super sweet. And get this- she loves cars. Actually, she welds at the body shop just a few blocks from here."

Kisame's heartbeat sped up- or maybe it slowed down, he couldn't tell. It made his stomach lurch.

A girl like that…

After another swig of whiskey, Heromi squealed, "Ouch! Babe that hurts."

"I know, I'm sorry. Almost done." Deidara lifts his electric pen, and kisses her soft skin.

Kisame felt like a third wheel. The most awkward situation he could ever be in. Because everything he owned either has two wheels or four. Three was just queer.

Then, ideal distraction arrived; Kisame's phone rang.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"You'd better be on your way. We don't have all night." Pain barked.

"As fast as I can. Had to pick up blondie."

"Fine." He sighed, "Don't take too long."

Kisame hung up, and turned back to Deidara, who was finishing up Heromi's ink work. "Hey man we gotta bounce."

"I know." he cleared his throat, set his equipment down, and peeled off his gloves.

"Thank you baby." Heromi slurred, awkwardly getting up from the chaise.

Kisame looked away politely as she stood, and moved to pick up her clothes from Deidara's desk.

"I'll be back later tonight." Deidara said with a kiss. He walked out past Kisame, "Let's get this over with, yeah?"

"Sooner the better." Kisame followed him out.

Along the way, Deidara grabbed a beer from a refrigerator in the lounge, cracking it open with one of his rings.

"What are you doing?" Kisame asked.

"What? You're driving right? So, I can enjoy my beverage."

"You will not be enjoying your beverage in my car."

"I'm not gonna spill it!"

"Not a risk I'm willing to take." Kisame took the bottle from Deidara's hand, and broke it against the sidewalk.

"Fine, Jesus." Deidara scowled.

Kisame felt more at ease, knowing that the interior of his car would remain pristine. With the Tattoo parlor out of the rear view, Deidara seemingly forgot the sour disposal of his drink and struck up conversation.

"Her name is Danny."

"Sorry?"

"The welder at the body shop. Heromi wasn't kidding. She could hook you up, if you want."

"Hm."

"Do you not like girls, dude? It's okay, you know, if you're swinging for the other team-"

"I'm not gay."

"Okay."

There was silence for a while. Kisame didn't know what to say, and Deidara was afraid to say anything more. But the thoughts roiled in Kisame's head like flies.

Just haven't met the right one. Maybe there isn't a right one. But to at least find one girl who isn't afraid of me… That's all.


	3. Chapter 3 - Konan

She was wearing a tight black vest over a white blouse; her hair was wrapped in an ornate bun per usual. The stray lavender strands fell wispily around her ears. She could feel his eyes all over her. They always were. But Konan pretended not to care.

Pain cleared his throat as he rested his elbows on the bar, "So, how have you been?"

"Same as always." She said with a sigh, not bringing her eyes to his.

"Are you busy later? I mean, after closing."

"I'll be busy sleeping. Come on, Pain, it's been a long week."

"I know. I was just wondering if you wanted to…"

Before Pain could finish his offer, Konan gently slid a scotch in front of him. She let her fingers fall away from the bent rim of the glass, and her eyes fell back to the floor. She hoped that a drink would move his thoughts away from her. He was a brooder when he drank. At least he was quiet.

"Thanks." He shrugged.

_You're welcome._

He cleared his throat before taking a gulp. Pain looked around with rejected eyes. Konan was trying to keep him occupied. She was pushing him away. And just like that, she walked away. Not to appear rude; she had a business to manage. Konan left the bar-tending to Naiomi, who was trying not to flirt with a customer across the bar.

The back of her head tickled lightly. Maybe he was watching her, but it could have been her imagination. As Konan made her way between the benches and tables, she curved around the front-right stage to a dense, industrial-sized door behind a heavy velvet curtain.

She made haste once she passed beyond its metallic threshold, her insides churned. A dancer wiped her brow as she stepped down from the rear curtain of the main stage. Konan took the first door on the right to her own office. Now that she was alone Konan's heart rate picked up, and her lungs began to panic.

_I can't tell him. I can't tell him._

Konan wasn't alone for a minute- when there was a knock at her door. She paused, holding her breath and trying to remain calm as she opened it. Pain ran his hands through his greased, spiky red hair. He tapped his foot nervously.

"Hey uh. Look-"

Konan scowled, "No. You can't be back here. It is literally against my own rules to allow customers past the curtains."

Pain rolled his eyes, "I don't care!" He leaned in closer, before looking over his shoulder. "What happened to us? What did I do?"

Konan pretended to look uninterested, "Nothing. You did nothing."

"Then why haven't we had a regular conversation for over a week, huh?"

_I can't tell him. I-_

Pain looked anxious. He flicked his lip ring with his teeth, "Fine. Fine. You don't wanna talk about it." He looked away, leaning off from the doorframe.

"I'm working, Pain." Konan watched as Pain shook his head, and stepped off. It was always the best excuse but also the worst, because it shouldn't have to be.

Konan shut the door again. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so they say. The emotions came rushing back through her chest. habitually, she let herself fall onto the red suede sofa adjacent to her desk.

"_Touch me."_

Her own voice whispered into her ears, and Pain's imaginary touch glazed her skin. Konan shot up from the sofa.

_It might as well be cursed._

Konan's memories pressed deep into her eyelids. Blinking embedded them into her sights like sunspots. An entourage of dancers giggled backstage, passing close to the door. It's just one night, Konan told herself. She had to get through it. Like a magnet, her eyes located the clock across her desk.

11:09 P.M.

_I can make it. I'm not really here for me, afterall._

It was Konan's floor, she paid lease and stocked the shelves herself, but it wasn't all about the profits. The stage was a sanctuary. A place where these smart, beautiful girls could make a pretty penny to step out of a tougher life. Every policy Konan signed them for protected them.

"_Alena, Alena don't cry." _Konan clutched the young girl by the shoulders.

"_He- he was going to grab me!"_

"_He can't grab you sweetheart."_

"_I can't dance anymore… I haven't recovered."_

"_That's fine. I want you to be comfortable. Can you work the bar for me?"_

Alena nodded, wiping away her tears with shaky hands.

"_He can't grab you. Nobody can grab you. Any man that does, violates my house rules, and I will sue. You're safe here."_

If only there had been a place like that for her when she needed it. But no- it was a tough life. Sometimes Konan thinks it always will be. With a balled fist, she marched back out from the curtained doorway, back out to the dim lights and deep sensual rock jams. Konan's hand fearfully grazed her stomach, pretending to fiddle with the button of her blouse.

_I can't tell him yet._


End file.
